


Pocantico

by noblet



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Operation Iraqi Stephen: Going Commando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblet/pseuds/noblet
Summary: Jon really, really, liked mocking the sheep as they drove up the hillside.





	Pocantico

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InlovewithStephenColbert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InlovewithStephenColbert/gifts).



> _Remember when Stephen went to Iraq? On the report?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Could you like do a fic where Stephen's trying to convince Jon its a good idea, and Jon kinda doesn't want him to go cuz he's terrified of something going wrong?_
> 
>  
> 
> USO: United Service Organizations (aka the group that allowed Stephen to go to Iraq)
> 
> Takes place in 2009.

_thoughts on me spending a week in baghdad?_

Jon blinked the dreariness out of this eyes, then thought for a few moments before twisting his face into a look of concern. He typed out a reply- slowly, as if his fingers were fighting molasses. 

_I can think of better ways to spend a week._

He hit send, set his phone aside, then spent a few more minutes penning extra modifications into Monday's script until he realized that Stephen had yet to send a response. He got up from his seat at the kitchen table and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to leave his laptop and strewn papers where they were. His home was a mess, just like his office at work, and Stephen never stopped giving him shit for that fact. 

He turned off the lights and made way to the bedroom, where Stephen was grinning at him from his side of the mattress, phone resting face-down on his chest. 

“You could’ve just walked to the living room, you know,” Jon said before swapping his t-shirt for a clean one and climbing in beside him. “Could've said, 'Hey, come to bed maybe?' and I would've said yes. You’re ridiculous, by the way.”

“So I’ve been told-” Stephen leaned over to shut off a lamp. “-by a short, hairy-”

Darkness surrounded them.

“-short, sarcastic, short, funny, did I mention short?”

Jon resisted the urge to kick him beneath the sheets. “I got the joke, thanks,” he said before pulling them up to his chin and settling down.

It was spring, and the heavy blankets Stephen had insisted on buying in the winter were already proving themselves to be too hot to handle. Jon could imagine himself waking up in the middle of the night panicked and drowning in his own sweat. A heavy sleeper, he was not. 

Stephen’s voice cut through his contemplation, for better or for worse. 

“I was serious about the Baghdad thing earlier, you know. We got an offer from the USO this morning.”

“Shit,” Jon breathed. “That’s a big deal.”

“It _is._ "

Silence filled the spaces between their words again, this time thoughtful. Jon focused on the blinking light of the smoke detector on the ceiling. When he was younger, the red eye never failed to scare the shit out of him. 

“I think we’re gonna accept," Stephen finally said.

“I- I'd do the same,” Jon managed. 

“Are you okay?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah. Just. You know. Tired.” He thought about addressing his concerns, but there was no point. Stephen already knew.

“It'll be fine, Jon. Nothing's happened there in months." He found Jon's left hand in the dark and held it with his right, used the pad of his thumb to rub reassuring circles into the skin. Jon barely noticed.

“I don't want anything to happen to you, that's all.”

“Same here. Say, if I come back with all my driving limbs intact-”

“-not funny.”

“-then I’ll take you out somewhere. To make up for your troubles.”

Jon thought for awhile. “Pocantico,” he mumbled. Jon really, really, liked mocking the sheep as they drove up the hillside.

“Pocantico it is, then," Stephen affirmed. Somehow, Jon could hear the grin in his voice. "There. It’s a promise. Now I have to come back. Still worried?”

“Not at all.”

"Liar."

The light blinked at him. Once, two, three, four times. "Sorry," Jon said finally. "Can't help it."

"I know," Stephen sighed. "You watch too much news."

"It's my  _job._ "

"That's what your researchers are for," Stephen pointed out. "There's no use stressing yourself out over things that can't be helped. It's unhealthy."

" _Smoking_ is unhealthy," Jon said. " _Getting four hours of sleep a night_ is unhealthy. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Speaking of getting four hours of sleep-," Stephen leaned in to kiss him just above the temple, "-we need to sleep. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"Alright," Jon said, almost a whisper.

He stared up at the blinking light until Stephen's breaths grew balanced and even, in and out and in and out again. He felt steady, calm. 

Jon closed his eyes and forced his mind to clear, willed his breath to match Stephen's. How he'd ever slept without him, Jon had long forgotten, but at least he was here, now, instead of somewhere else some six thousand miles away. And fuck. He started worrying again.


End file.
